"atlantis" poems
As beautiful as the famed city of Atlantis
Gloriously flourishing in her perfection
There is a place where my soul and heart is
A perfect place without grief or deception
Where my heart is always merry
And peace blossoms like the cherry
The sun smiles at me gently caressing
My body as the birds sing melodies-
So beautiful they keep me guessing-
The beauty of future melodic memories
Like the Cedars of Lebanon
Beautifying the palaces of Ethiopia
Purity, love and perfection adorn her every season.
This place is within me; this place is Utopia
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
I was born in a time of veterans and freedom. Or was it killing, like when we left Eden?
I was born in a time, of oceans and salt. Or was it destruction, Atlantis had fought?
I was born in a desert, a place with a lot of hot sand. Cleopatra, Aphrodite, Egypt, all Seeing in the Land.
I was born in a Television, Hollywood starstruck was my name.
Classic, Modern or Hipster, craving fortune and fame.
I was born a telepathic, a mind reader of such. Seeking and giving out energy, requiring you of much.
I am deep, I am wide and I am always by your side. Loyal, Obedient and Giving. Taking, Fantasizing, Living.
I am quite the comic book laughter. I comedian of sorts.
I am quick to judge the living and cover up my warts.
Back to 1960, or was is 70 and 2?
When I was born a Scorpio, and no one ever knew.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
#
The room in starlight bathed
My body unscathed
Swimming indoors
sheets are shores
Wash over me like the tide
for I don't sleep at night
Swimming indoors
where it always pours
Moon reflection
on my cushion
Swimming indoors
following ancient lores
Diving deep to find
an Atlantis on my mind
Swimming indoors
til reaching the dream's source
#
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour
In being the last of one's kind: a topmost moment as one watched
The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge
Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
Now I see that, all along, I was assuming a posterity
Of gentle hearts: someone, however distant in the depths of time,
Who could pick up our signal, who could understand a story. There won't be.
Between the new Hembidae and us who are dying, already
There rises a barrier across which no voice can ever carry,
For devils are unmaking language. We must let that alone forever.
Uproot your loves, one by one, with care, from the future,
And trusting to no future, receive the massive ******
And surge of the many-dimensional timeless rays converging
On this small, significant dew drop, the present that mirrors all.
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The great hanging weak **** of India
on the map
The Fingernail of Malaya
The Wall of China
The Korea
Ti-Pousse Thumb
The Salamander Japan
the Okinawa Moon Spot
The Pacific
The Back of Hawaiian Mountains
coconuts
Kines, balconies, Ah Tarzan-
And D W Griffith
the great American Director
Strolling down disgruntled
Hollywood Lane
- to toot Nebraska,
Indian Village New York,
Atlantis, Rome,
Peleus and Melisander,
And
swans of *****
Spots of foam on the ocean
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See, it’s more of a… hypnosis,
A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it.
Like a whisk into a different parallel world
Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact,
kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor.
Not just any ballroom floor though.
No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night
a masterpiece that cannot be replicated,
and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement
I wish to step there.
However, I am a tad ungraceful
and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers.
So I might just impersonate one
and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes
hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement
of this hypnotic, starry world.
Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss
With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets
Looking for something, anything,
to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late,
Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate.
But, if you want, you can accompany me
and we can scuba dive together
into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder
And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis.
And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty
and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something?
With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty
but we have to open it
because that’s the secret in the treasure.
To open it.
And the contents are the spoils.
Open it.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Land,
The Mystery
A Nature to One's Mind
A Sand which Flows,
And Glows
And sparkles Success
To One.
Before Men,
Before Cities borne out of
Civilisation's Womb
There was,
And was known to many
That it was Land,
The Enigma,
The Unknown to One.
Who lives in the Deep,
The Paradise Underworld
Of Many,
Of Millions,
Of a Thousand Beings in Atlantis.
The Impossible
Is Done
And should be Done
By One.
The Brave,
The Humble,
The Curious Juniour
One Foot,
That touches the Sand
One Breath,
Of Boreas' Air
One look,
Of Demeter's Feet
One Meet,
At Thriver's Friendly.
And Wisdom,
Has been Known,
And Shown,
The Impossible
Has been Done.
It is One's Dream,
The Goal,
The Conquest,
For the Future of Existence.
The Happiness,
To many of One Nation's Grand
Of Praise and Possibilities.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
Turquoise blues guitars
Laughing baby elephants (that paint)
Melodies singing lullabies to sleepy baby elephants
(tired from painting all day)
Blank canvases full of blackberries on the inside
The antidote to love
All the dotes that didn't get doted
And all the ones that did
Playing badminton in the backyard of Cupid's summer home in Manarola
The ruby that died to make Dorothy's slippers
And the shortest hair from the Lion's tail
Wine filled grapes
Water balloons filled from hot springs and melted mountain snow
Two spokes from Steve McQueen's "Great Escape" motorcycle
Three kisses from Ilsa Lund
And a smile from Sabrina Fairchild
Tom Robbins' typewriter (it's magic)
A flying dragon
A dragonfly (grounded for not doing her homework)
Jenny's phone number
The pillow that hit the floor at Cecilia's that afternoon
The third stair from the top of the Stairway to Heaven (best view)
One of the lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
And a grain of salt from the sea the other is swimming in
An olympic size pool full of melted crayons
A vile of sweat from the ever fleeing muse
A refrigerator the size of Rhode Island
Full of magnificent lines of magnetic poetry
Poetry (all of it)
The monster under the monster's bed
Every foul ball ever caught by any kid
Hammocks (any and every)
The cardboard boat that never stopped sailing down the gutter of the world
The secret to everything
(kept securely under the bed of the monster, under the monster's bed)
Santa's real address (you won't believe this)
The blue ink from the blueprints of Atlantis
Golf carts with no maximum speed
The energy dust left from dancing, hugging and smiling
Freshly climbed trees
A warehouse the size of Antarctica completely filled
Wall to wall with raw, unfiltered laughter
Beer
Everything that was left on the field
Passionate embraces and embracing a passion
Apology free, but full of forgiveness
The wild of the wilderness
The tame of the un-tame
Language
Intuition
Conception
First kisses, waves and winks
Goodbye hugs and thrown in kitchen sinks
Art
Music
Pain
Puddles that have been danced in under pouring rain
Empty film cans
Films on screens
All of these ingredients
Are what makes up
Dreams
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
summer day breeze
whispers ancient secrets of childhood upon your silky skin
caresses your backless yellow dress with billowing life
summer day sneeze
spins you round in white sneakers
wielding even whiter smile
summer day licks
so luscious and pink
summer day thrills
just for kicks
bare feet,
reckless running
defy gravity
like when we were kids and built
that time-machine from cardboard boxes
remember
when we fed baby butterflies with our first adventurous kiss
soul shattering tides
my fortress of solitude can no longer resist
it's still just made of tiny fluffy pillows
but now they're all grown up
i still remember
when you said
"i love you"
but we were just kids back then
and i didn't say it back
so i became an underwater knight after your love faded
and i wandered the deep dark sea all alone,
could no longer breathe the air above water
i stayed in darkness
slayed all the monsters
most of them my own
but never really found me a home
you sank earning your very own scars
and every single one is a tale of fire and caution:
"she's slippery when wet"
but that's okay, my love
i'm an underwater knight
in search of Atlantis
and the familiar in your smile disarms me like
childish imagination breathes wonder
and selfless love to life
this time i say it back
and we've both
finally found
our home.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
Floating
Laughing
Smoking
Singing
Flying
Drying
And hopping in again
Something sharp touches your skin
It burns
A thousand needles
Of a jellyfish sting
It has a hold of your ankle
And is pulling you downstream
You look down
It's menacing
It's laughing now
And floating
Singing
It's quite demeaning
You fight and fight
But its grip is tight
It pulls you underneath the surface
As the trees around you
Become a world without you
What is that sparkle?
It's golden, silver, bronze
You see domes and towers
Fruitstands and flowers
You quiver
The jellyfish loosens his grip
As you wipe the blood off your lip
Who would have thought
The key to Atlantis
Was in a jellyfish's grasp
Either that or this jellyfish's secretions
Were super hallucinogenic
Either way
This is cool
*wait, how do they even have a swimming pool underwater
and functioning toilets
fish don't even have thumbs
i really don't understand
****
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
i held his hand as we sank into the shore.
glass shards, ripping
& stinging our feet. but
i could not ask for more.
i could not ask at all.
the ocean loomed - a heavy shadow,
too dark to be blue. it lapped at our
wounds, like a hungry tomb and
the wind was begging
for me to fall.
quicksand, almost. we were knee deep
into the wrecked atlantis of the creatures
who used to live on the beach.
they once held hands too.
they once had someone to call.
the biggest of waves it was his home it was his place i could not save him from grace it
swallowed him whole.
and i, a carcass along the shore.
i began to understand why hermit *****
said goodbye to their shells with a drawl.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
i.
Mine artistry inamorata
Airburshed on tapestry upon;
Fernando Amorsolo canvas.
ii.
Thou art mine Atlantis
The air I sucketh in;
Mine piece of God, timeless.
iii.
What id do without thee?
I couldst not liveth;
I'll giveth thee mine last drop, of blood mine dear.
iv.
Cometh near
Shadow's dance with us;
Filipino perfume's, ancient dusk.
v.
In the negrito of Luzon
Bead's shalt bounce ourn neck's;
Red one's, yellow one's, tribal seed connect.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Something don't feel right
something is coming down
something going on below
something...
has all gone wrong
and the bomb is about to blow
mankind went after nature
and thought he won the race
but the verdict coming in is
that we're all headed
for death row
now we all are wearing
masks of ignorance
pretending we didn't know
it was gamble every time
we picked between two evils
to lead us down
our long descent
we like to blame the snake
for all the fruit we poison
but we knew all along
we were sleeping
with the devil
while dressing up like sheep
ba ba the witch is dead
don't you remember
we bunt her for our sins
and ate all of her children
because we feared
they were descendants
of the wolf
yet we still think
we hold the blessing
of the glory of some god
as if our acts of treason
against the higher power
have gone unnoticed
our hands may be clasped
in prayer
but behind the curtain
we're watching war
fist **** mother nature
like a *****
imaginary lines divide us
from one another
as we volunteer to spill
each others blood
until the oceans overflow
with all our spoiled milk
the coastline is moving in
and Noah can't build an ark
big enough for our ego
we're going to have to start
believing in evolution
because we're going to need
some gills
and hope Atlantis is kinder
to us than we have been
to each other
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
Take me with you to your Atlantis
Where hues of blue glisten in noons
For eternity we embrace in its promise
Are days of sober in crystallic bliss
Are nights of glacial comfort under mystic lunes
Take me with you to your Atlantis
Wash me into a tender kiss
Too soft to be witnessed but the full moons
For eternity we embrace in its promise
Beyond boundaries of mortality at this
ocean, through the skies and dunes
Take me with you to your Atlantis
Volumes and arks fill up the abyss
with painted tales of Atlantic ruins
For eternity we embrace in its promise
When love dreamily left only to reminisce
as the ink of Plato seeped in tunes
Take me with you to your Atlantis
For eternity we embrace in its promise
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 2:54 PM UTC
The sea isn't a blanket.
Sure, blankets may have waves,
and blankets ripple when you jump on them,
but a blanket does not host Atlantis.
A blanket isn't full of saline.
A blanket does not hold billions of creatures underneath it.
Instead, a blanket only holds a couple, snoring, unconscious,
unaware of the each other,
unaware of their petty troubles,
unaware of their drunkenness,
unaware of their bruises,
unaware of life, death, and the sea.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
Your words claw out of my eyes,
And fall translucent into the clasped palms
Of my hands.
Listen, listen carefully to the muddled sounds.
Hear the tiger's paws trample the dusted paths of
The vacant streets;
The arcane acres of blotted ink
Sitting beside the ruminant hordes,
Choking on a drawer of silver spoons.
We see through the wall's hole;
A soothing fire raging, yet we cannot touch
It's flame.
STAND IN LINE, take a number
Our turn will be coming soon.
Be the street lamps beneath the redwood's shade
Be the porch swing on the moon's surface.
Be Atlantis, lost and found.
Listen,
listen
carefully...
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
When I was borne
i was borne on the crest of a wave
and rocked by the cradle of the deep.
My mother is the tale
of seahorses running
chariots to Atlantis!
My eyes!
My eyes are stars
my teeth are Spars!
My hair is made
out of seaweed.
And When;
When I spitz,
i spitz tar.
I is tough,
I am,
I is,
I arggggg!
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
Nobody Knows McQueen
Why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,
nobody knows,
why,
do you have to lose the sanity,
to find,
the genius,
nobody knows,
why,
do the brightest lights,
cast,
the darkest shadows,
nobody knows,
can’t have the beach,
without the ocean and the sand,
can’t have bliss,
without the pain,
what a paradox we are,
us this Human Species,
all us actors just acting sans practice,
in deafening silence commiting acts of violence peacefully,
in this repulsively attractive romantically tragic,
dramatic sci-fi thriller comedic fantasy,
where we rarely do what we say,
even though we all say what we mean,
constantly on a conquest to find Plato’s Atlantis,
expressing ourselves through our art like Alexander McQueen,
which makes sense in a way since we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go,
and even though that may be so we still wear our hearts on our sleeves,
half peasant have emperor,
have invented have inventor,
half daughter/son half mother/father,
half created have creator,
only hope is that this sadness somehow leads to a happily ever after,
once gone,
only that odor lingers,
is it cologne or perfume,
no one knows or cares it’s 2018 it doesn’t matter,
nothing matters,
even though it feels like everything does,
or maybe everything matters,
and nothing feels like it does,
I don’t know,
and I don’t know if I care,
don’t have the answers,
and if I did I probably wouldn’t share,
or maybe I would,
and I’d do so through these words,
like a man stranded on an island with a universe full of knowledge,
sending these messages in these bottles as my parting gift to this world,
see we’re all on our way,
so have some fun before you go,
is there life after death,
maybe not maybe so nobody knows,
why do mad men,
act so happy,
what do bad men,
feel so good,
nobody knows…
∆ LaLux ∆
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
Organization and structure,
the balance of chaos and fear,
The confident sight full of luster,
The glow in the skies and the seas of the year.
waves and valleys combine their forces,
paint the world with shocks and tremors,
Clouds absorb the moving torches,
Lights and sounds that I remember.
The world I knew was once a kingdom,
riches treasures and monies abound,
Now the forces dissipate.... and I am all that I have found,
Lost Atlantis perfect love,
Feelings, colors, lights above...
Darkness covers all I know,
And I am only lonely...
Huh.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
A mutant dog chases me
Up the stairs, around the corner, into the room.
It backs me up against the wall
Into the scream.
But it isnt really that awkward painting that hangs above my bed, its
Only a balcony.
Up against the edge I go, teetering.
Out he sticks, a giant paw.
Up against me he pushes, I fall.
Into the depths, as low as Atlantis.
Everything fades to black…
I wake up screaming and sweat soaked.
Another fake in my life.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
The time in which we gathered together,
Lost in our arms and eyes,
Correctly begins with "Once upon a time..."
And does now beguile my sunrise.
-
A wasteland is wont for many explorers,
In its greed though, it keeps them forever,
But the paradise I found with you
Would light my every endeavor.
-
Were each freckle a map of stars upon,
The shining blue sky this morn,
They"d allow me to navigate your sea of soft skin,
And mend a heart, forlorn.
-
An anchor that kept my vessel afloat
While Poseidon's depression near' took me with him,
I held the key to your heart, fabled Atlantis,
In love as I could ever have been, by an Angel, smitten.
-
The tender kashmir lips,
That promised and fulfilled me to sleep,
Have dispersed long ago,
And have tempted me to weep.
-
Complex reflections of my own inner self,
Revealed the catastrophe in full,
Though you had my heart for yourself,
I couldn't find where it leisurely lulled.
-
Young and daft, I took my own risks,
Risks that transformed into sorrow,
Shielded at last, that upon my cask'
Shall be writ' "perhaps joy comes on the morrow"
-
The serene, subcontious Siren
Knows not even of her own beauty,
With eyes that could stop time and planes
Of space, she can, so truly.
-
I beg to be rid of the memories,
I ask for constant euthanasia,
I consume to forget entirely
And regret my own mistakes here.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
There are so many poems
I could write
if only
you were not an ocean away
but your eyes are like
a ripple into the sea
and the words you've held on to
left your body
shipwrecked and crinkled
If only your fingers
could find mine
underneath the ocean
underneath the surface
beneath the soil
the fire the land
where reality fills a gap
where imagination
sinks in
The world may pull
you from your sleeves
but Atlantis
can reach you
from the weakest parts
of your knees
to the lines on your
lips
There are so many poems
I could write
if only
you were not an ocean away
If there was an alternate universe
I would be writing
your name across the
spider web stars
I would dig into the deepest
parts of your mind
where you keep all
of your bad thoughts
I would collect each of them
with my bare hands
and I would remind you
"this is how I fell in love
with you."
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
We shall launch our shallop on waters blue from some dim primrose shore,
We shall sail with the magic of dusk behind and enchanted coasts before,
Over oceans that stretch to the sunset land where lost Atlantis lies,
And our pilot shall be the vesper star that shines in the amber skies.
The sirens will call to us again, all sweet and demon-fair,
And a pale mermaiden will beckon us, with mist on her night-black hair;
We shall see the flash of her ivory arms, her mocking and luring face,
And her guiling laughter will echo through the great, wind-winnowed space.
But we shall not linger for woven spell, or sea-nymph's sorceries,
It is ours to seek for the fount of youth, and the gold of Hesperides,
Till the harp of the waves in its rhythmic beat keeps time to our pulses' swing,
And the orient welkin is smit to flame with auroral crimsoning.
And at last, on some white and wondrous dawn, we shall reach the fairy isle
Where our hope and our dream are waiting us, and the to-morrows smile;
With song on our lips and faith in our hearts we sail on our ancient quest,
And each man shall find, at the end of the voyage, the thing he loves the best.
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